


Shattered Hearts

by majorbisexualdisaster



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, F/M, Introspection, Intrusive Thoughts, One Shot, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorbisexualdisaster/pseuds/majorbisexualdisaster
Summary: Jon lives on the fringes of the Stark family, he hangs on to them by an unravelling thread. He's a stain on their legacy, he mars their perfection, spilt ink on a page of pure white. A mistake.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	Shattered Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> tw: suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt

Jon lives on the fringes of the Stark family, he hangs on to them by an unravelling thread. He's a stain on their legacy, he mars their perfection, spilt ink on a page of pure white. A mistake. 

He was three when he realized he couldn't call Catelyn his mother, six when Sansa refused to call him her brother, eight when he learned to keep his head down, stay out of sight. To the rest of the world, Catelyn Stark is a loving, dutiful wife, taking in her husband's bastard and raising him with her own children. To Jon, she's cold and hateful, her fury kept in check only by the presence of her husband whom she loves _oh so dearly_. 

The servants in the manor say Jon is prone to fits of melancholy, Robb calls it brooding, Arya calls it sulking. Jon says he's thinking, wondering what his life could have been away from the Starks. Guilt squeezes his lungs whenever these thoughts come (tightening and tightening until he can't breathe) because the Starks are _good_ to him and he shouldn't want more. But he does. A mother's love, acceptance, freedom to be who he wants to be, a life without the persistent voice in his head saying he is not good enough. 

Jon looks more like his father than any of Catelyn's children do. It's not enough. 

At school, Jon has friends: the scholarship kids. He doesn't tell them Robb Stark is his brother ( _half-brother_ ) and they don't ask, they know he doesn't want to talk about it. His afternoons are spent in the library, tuition is expensive and his grades need to stay high, not that he would get kicked out if they slipped, but he would shatter if his father looks at him with the same disdain Catelyn does. His evenings are spent working in a pizzeria with Sam. He has a trust fund he never wants to use. 

Channel three news is always on at the pizzeria and before he locks up for the night, the entertainment news that's not _news_ per se but rumours and speculations begins. He doesn't know why he watches it, he already knows what his family gets up to, he knows more than the people on the TV. And yet, he stays a half-hour after closing and watches the entertainment news and feels closer to his family than he does living in the same house as them.

* * *

Sometimes, Jon wonders if the Starks' lives would be easier if he just _left._ His father says his mother is dead, she has no known family. He doesn't tell him her name. Sometimes, he wants to scream and curse, grab his father by the shoulders and shake her name out of him, find out who she was, what she wanted to do with her life. 

He likes to think she was smart, pretty, kind. He likes to think his father loved her. 

He knows he didn't. 

* * *

Jon doesn't cause problems. He keeps his head out of the clouds, his face out of the tabloids. There's a gala that they attended: his father, Catelyn, Robb and Sansa. The four of them made a striking picture. They look happy, the beginnings of a new generation of talent. Because they are, they are so talented, gifted with good looks and sharp minds and _fuck—_ it must come from Catelyn because Jon doesn't have any of it.

They say _Ned and Catelyn Stark and their two oldest children_ , and while that is true, it still stings.

His father likes to talk to him on nights like this when he and his perfect family go out. His suit jacket is off, his tie is long gone, he comes carrying two bottles of beer. He thanks Jon for watching after the kids like that's the only reason he stayed behind, a smile on his face. Nights like these, Jon wishes he could get drunk off one bottle of beer. His father wants to talk, Jon's never been good at talking. 

Neither of them are conversationalists, preferring to sit in silence and let the other person chatter away. The conversation is awkward and his father leaves as soon as their beers are done. Sometimes, if they get back late enough, Jon pretends to sleep, avoiding the mixture of pity and guilt and expensive beer that still tastes like shit. 

Jon avoids breakfast the next morning. The kids like to ask questions, they know they'll eventually get to go too. Jon won't, so Jon doesn't bother asking. He returns to the Stark's manor with just enough time to shower before heading back out to the pizzeria. 

Sam mans the till while he and Grenn make the pizzas. Sam's a people-person, he likes to talk, he's nice, one of the rare truly good people Jon's ever met. When Sam takes his break, Grenn goes to the front, not Jon, never Jon. He's not good at that. 

Jon doesn't use his breaks, if he does, his thoughts begin to run rampant in his head, destroying any pride in himself he's built. If his hands are busy, his mind is busy and that's all that matters. Kneading the dough, rolling it, putting on the toppings, putting it in the oven. Repeat. He's good at this, at least.

His hands are busy when he cooks, his hands are busy when he cleans. His mind is busy when he watches the entertainment news and hears the hosts preach about how perfect the Starks are, Charming Robb and Gorgeous Sansa. He runs back to the manor, his bag hitting his back over and over. Running's good too, the burn in his chest is greater than the darkness in his mind. He takes himself in hand when he showers, he's busy then too. 

* * *

Bran asks him to take him to his chess tournament next Tuesday. His hands aren't busy, he can't run, he doesn't have anything to do. 

_Failure_. He knows he's not, but it still feels that way.

 _Worthless._ He thinks he's not, but it feels that way.

 _Pathetic_. If he's not, why does it feel that way?

 _Depressed, loser, motherless, weak, bastard, miserable, wretched, nobody. Worthless, worthless, worthless._ He is. He is.

* * *

A pretty girl with moonlight for hair and amethysts for eyes sits beside him and greets him. And this _cannot_ be right because girls like her don't talk to guys like him, and it doesn't make sense, and _how does she know his name?_

She talks about the tournament because she's here competing and she talks about the Calculus class they share _(that's_ _how_ ) and she talks about her family and she talks and talks and her melodious voice that sounds faintly like the tinkling of bells drowns out his thoughts better than making pizza, better than running, better than jerking off in the shower. That is not where his mind should be right now.

The girl ( _what's her name? did she say?_ ) leaves, saying she's up next. Jon wishes he wished her good luck, instead he just gaped at her. He cannot talk to girls.

The girl _—Daenerys—_ comes by the manor twice a week to play chess with Bran. His father and Catelyn don't like her, pretty girl, way older than Bran, shirts a little too low and pants a little too tight. Bran defends her, says she's his friend, one of his only friends, she's nice, teaches him new strategies. Jon likes it when she comes around too, he doesn't say that though. Robb does, says she's _nice_. It doesn't sound the same as when Bran says it.

She swings by the pizzeria now, too. Right before closing, comes in and buys one of the last slices before they're chucked. She interrupts his nightly entertainment-news-watching, insists that she walk home with him, her house just down the road from the Starks' manor. He can't run, her voice fills his head and he doesn't know what to say, so she talks and he listens. His shower sessions are a lot more intense now.

It's _a thing_ now. She's become a permanent fixture in his life. He's addicted to her, she makes him feel good like nothing else and now _nothing_ else is working. He hates her, he loves her, he wants to drown her, he wants her to consume him. He calls her _Dany_ now like they're good friends. Maybe she thinks they are; she sits with him and the scholarship kids at lunch now too. She's his light, warding off the darkness of his own creation.

She kisses him goodbye that night, under the stars. It's not even close to perfect, bumping noses and clashing teeth, but her lips are soft and her mouth is warm and Jon has no idea what he's doing, but she's smiling when she pulls away, so he must have done _something_ right. She waves at him and heads towards her home, leaving him gaping in the driveway. 

They hold hands now, hug each other, kiss each other. He thinks Robb might be a little jealous and that's definitely a first. He's _good_ when he's with her, he can forget that he's a broken person, a bastard, worthless. He can forget when he's with her, but he's not always with her.

When he's alone, the thoughts creep back in, slowly, one at a time, shattering everything he's built. 

_You're not good enough for her._ She likes me. _Does she? Or is she using you to get to your better, stronger, charming, more handsome brother?_ No, she likes me, she said, she said. _People lie all the time, why would anyone ever want you when they could have Robb?_

He calls her at night, listens to her talk, watches as she fights the thoughts away. His knight in shining armour, how romantic.

* * *

She asks him if he's sad. 

He tells her not when he's with her.

She says that's unhealthy. She says she can't be enough. She says he needs help. 

He doesn't know what that means.

* * *

He doesn't know what to do anymore. She doesn't sit with him at lunch and she doesn't swing by the pizzeria and she doesn't come by the manor to play chess with Bran and she doesn't answer his calls in the middle of the night, but she still smiles at him in the halls. He doesn't know what to do.

Jon needs her to come back, he needs her, he's addicted to her. 

Robb says he's brooding more than usual (Arya calls it sulking). His father comes into his room with two beers, there's no event tonight. He says he's worried, he says he thinks maybe Jon should talk to someone _(Dany, he needs to talk to Dany)._ Jon tells him he's fine, trouble sleeping is all. 

He calls her that night, she doesn't answer. 

* * *

Sometimes, Jon wonders what it would be like to die. 

Sometimes, Jon wishes he was dead.

* * *

He's miserable, she's _ruined_ him. He wishes he'd never met her. She made him feel better, like he was something worthwhile and then she just _left_. He can't distract himself from the emptiness inside his chest. It doesn't hurt anymore, he doesn't hurt anymore. He's empty, hollow, a shell, vacant, empty, empty, _empty_.

Sam and Grenn ask him if something is wrong, Dany hasn't been around in a while. He says she has other things to do (anything's better than being with him). They say he's acting strange now, they say he's not himself. He says he's fine. They don't ask again. 

He doesn't watch the entertainment news anymore. He can't bring himself to care.

Jon misses three days of work this week. He's tired, he can’t do it. Jon gets fired.

* * *

His grades have been slipping, the scholarship kids don’t like him anymore, they don’t think he’s good enough for them. He tried to study at the library after school, he ended up staring out the window for however long he was there.

Robb and Arya and his father are sitting on the couch when he gets back. They say they need to talk to him, they say they think he should talk to someone, they say they’re worried about him, they say they think he is going to hurt himself.

Jon says he’s fine, he’s tired, he’s not going to hurt himself.

They don’t ask again.

His hair is a mess of tangled curls, he hasn’t washed or brushed it in a week. He just can’t, he _can’t_. He’s so tired.

* * *

He does something stupid. He knows it’s stupid, but he can't help himself, he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

He’s driving alone, at night. He shouldn’t be, he doesn’t care. He closes his eyes, hands tight on the steering wheel. It feels good, it feels good.

It doesn’t matter what happens, he has no friends, his family doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter, _he_ doesn’t matter.

The car smashes into something and his eyes fly open and all he can see is white and he’s flying through the windshield and there’s a thousand glass cuts on his body and he’s screaming now and he’s hit something, something. It hurts.

Everything goes black.

* * *

There are people talking, but he can't hear what they’re saying. It sounds as if he’s underwater, everything is muddled. His head his pounding and he can't open his eyes.

* * *

His father is sitting beside him when he wakes up, clasping his hand. Robb is pacing the room. Arya looks like she’s been crying. Sam and Grenn are there. Dany is there.

Jon groans.

He’s surrounded by relieved faces, angry faces.

Arya punches his arm, screams to never do that again. His father carries her out of the room. Tears are streaming down Robb’s face as he crushes him in a hug. Pain lances through his chest and he winces, Robb lets go and tells him they thought he was going to die.

Sam and Grenn and Dany each hug him, ask him what happened, they were _worried_.

His left leg is in a cast, a weird metal contraption around his torso keeping him immobilized. He almost _died_ and they cared. They care about him.

He asks to talk to someone, says he needs help because he does. He needs help, he’s not fine, he can’t pretend he’s fine, he hasn't been in a long time.

He’s not okay, he’s not alright. He’s not alone, either. He might not be a Stark, but he still has family, he still has friends. He knows it’s going to be a long journey, a hard journey. He’s willing to try.

Fin.


End file.
